


Fall and Form a Bridge

by myrtlebroadbelt



Category: Misfits (TV 2009)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Canon-Typical Violence, Death, Dimension Travel, Gen, Immortality, Near Death Experiences, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 18:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19892008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrtlebroadbelt/pseuds/myrtlebroadbelt
Summary: “What happens when you die?”They’re eating dinner on Kelly’s sofa when she asks him, and Nathan isn’t sure if she wants to know what happens whenhedies, or what happens when anybody dies. He can only speak for himself.





	Fall and Form a Bridge

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by The OA. No spoilers, exactly, just similar concepts.

“What happens when you die?” 

They’re eating dinner on Kelly’s sofa when she asks him, and Nathan isn’t sure if she wants to know what happens when _he_ dies, or what happens when anybody dies. He can only speak for himself.

Honestly, he’s surprised no one has asked him before this. He would have expected that to be their first question when they dug him up. Does God exist? Is He a wanker? Is there a Heaven, or is the afterlife just one long, smelly nap?

To be fair, Nathan isn’t the best person to ask. What happens to him probably doesn’t happen to people who die for good, and it’s different every time anyway.

The first time, it starts in a lift. The doors open with a chime, and instead of a tunnel and a welcoming white light, Nathan looks down a hotel corridor lit by dim chandeliers. He steps out onto the red and yellow carpet, and feels as if he’s stumbled into a decade he can’t quite place.

He’s wearing a grey suit, the same one he just died in. There’s no blood, no holes where the fence pierced him. He feels no pain. In fact, he doesn’t feel much of anything.

It’s something like dreaming, but not quite. Nathan wonders if it’s a memory — his life flashing before his eyes. Maybe this is some scene from his childhood that he buried too deep to recognize. He doesn’t understand the significance.

That’s when he notices the leg splayed out halfway down the corridor. Its owner is sitting in an alcove, facing away from him. He moves toward them slowly, unsure of what will happen when he reaches them. 

He stops when he notices the trainers they’re wearing. He has the same pair, just as grey and beat-up. There’s a hole in the sole of his left one, and he has a sneaking suspicion that if he were to look at this person from the other side, he would see the same one in theirs. Of course, if he were to do that, he would also be able to see their face, and that would be all the confirmation he would need.

He stands there staring at a familiar smudge of dirt on the shoe’s toe and wondering what will happen if he looks himself in the eye. Will he learn the secrets of the universe? Understand his true purpose? Remember a time when he was blackout drunk in a creepy hotel?

He thinks maybe he should say something, but he doesn’t know what. How does one address oneself? 

_“Hey, Nathan. It’s me, Nathan.”_

_“Excuse me, Me?”_

_“Oi, you! I think we’re the same person.”_

He doesn’t have to think about it for too long, because a not-so-distant voice distracts him. 

“Curtis!” it calls, and Nathan thinks it sounds a lot like Simon.

Then he remembers the roof, and Simon lunging forward to grab his hand, his fingers slipping, and he wonders if the little freak fell after him, if he’s dead now too. But why would he be calling out for Curtis?

Nathan hears footsteps coming closer around the corner, and he doesn’t know why, but he gets the sudden feeling that no one is supposed to see him here — least of all someone he knows. So he ducks into an open room.

The first thing he notices is a _splosh_ sound beneath his shoe. He looks down to see soapy water soaking the carpet. It leads into the bathroom, whose door is ajar. He can hear running water on the other side.

He pushes the door open with a creak, afraid of what he’ll find, but unable to stop himself. There’s foam covering the floor, and a green bathtub is overflowing from a forgotten tap. The room is empty, and it gives Nathan the creeps. 

“Alisha! Nikki!” he hears outside, and it sounds like Curtis. But how did he die?

Nathan doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do, doesn’t know where to hide. He can hear the hotel room door starting to open, and then suddenly it’s all over.

He wakes up, and he knows from the feeling of the cushion beneath his head and the iPod in his hand and the heart pounding in his chest that he’s alive. And then he doesn’t think very much about whatever it was he just experienced, because there are more pressing matters.

His first night out of the coffin, he sits in the office at the community centre and googles purgatory. None of the results mention seeing yourself on the floor of an unfamiliar hotel, so he shuts down the computer and goes to bed.

The next time, it happens in a prison. It’s unmistakable — a wide, stark block lined with metal doors. The ceiling is high, and there’s another level above him, although he can only see the railings. There’s noise all around him, of fists pounding and men shouting indistinctly. 

Nathan looks down at himself. He’s in his orange jumpsuit, which feels like some sort of sick joke. He’s almost surprised to see that the pipe which has been slowly killing him for the past fifteen minutes is no longer jutting out of his stomach. 

He stands there helplessly for a moment, looking around at nasty faces scowling at him through narrow windows. He doesn’t know where he’s supposed to go, but he feels like he has to _move_ , so he starts walking — slow at first, then almost a jog. The voices follow him, taunting him in words he can’t make out.

A door buzzes open somewhere, and Nathan stops short. A guard appears in front of him.

“Young! Stay where you are!” he shouts, charging toward Nathan and calling for backup on his walkie talkie. 

Nathan scampers back, hands held out in front of him. “No, no, you don’t understand. I’m not supposed to be here.”

He turns and tries to run, with no clue where he’s going. The inmates are pounding even harder on the doors of their cells now, cursing and laughing at him. He hears his name again. How do they know his name?

“I’m dead!” he screams as the guard grabs him under his arms and starts dragging him away. His shoes squeak as they slide against the linoleum. “This isn’t real! Wake up! Wake up!”

And he does, and he’s terrified, and for a few seconds, it feels like the pipe is driving through him all over again. But then he looks over, and Kelly is there, and he’s lying on his sad excuse for a bed in the community centre, and he realizes he’s safe.

Later, he googles near-death experiences. All the results are either too academic or woo-woo New Age to understand, so he gives up.

The last time it happens, it’s in a familiar place. He’s standing in the community centre, near the front entrance, barefoot and wearing only a T-shirt and underpants.

Something’s wrong. His knowledge (belief? hope?) that none of this is real isn’t enough to quash the terror that builds up inside him as he looks around. 

There’s blood on the floor. It’s smeared in some places, pooled in others, and the rest of it is splattered across the walls and the notice boards and even the ceiling. He’s stepping in it, and as he tries to move away, he leaves sticky red footprints on the tile.

But it’s not just the blood. It’s also the black sheets, covering person-sized lumps. Nathan has seen enough crime dramas, enough sobering news reports, to know what’s underneath them. Then he counts them — one, two, three, four — and it’s enough for him to know _who’s_ underneath them. 

He doesn't lift the sheets. There’s no reason to, other than to freak himself out. He’ll be awake soon, and the blood will be in his hair instead of on his feet, and tomorrow morning they’ll all meet in the locker room, and he’ll be the only one who was murdered.

Nathan turns around, walks toward the back door, not sure what he plans to do but knowing he can't look at this for another second. That's when he glances out the window and sees the ambulance parked outside, and the figure being wheeled into it on a stretcher. He can’t see their face, just the swell of their knees and feet beneath the blanket as the paramedic lifts them. 

This time, he doesn’t need to see what trainers they’re wearing to understand who he's looking at.

He hears a door open somewhere, and quickly ducks into a storeroom. He doesn’t want to get caught again, is afraid that this time they’ll keep him here. So he just stands there and waits for it to be over, pinching himself even though he can’t feel it.

He wakes up alone, in the dark on cold tile, with a splitting headache and a sore neck. It’s strange, to find this residual pain so comforting, but it lets him know that he’s alive and where he belongs.

That night, after he’s cleaned himself up in the shattered mirror, Nathan googles hell.

“What happens when you die?” Kelly asks, and Nathan keeps chewing to avoid answering her.

He doesn’t think Kelly’s power lets her _see_ people’s thoughts, but he almost wishes it did, because words alone won’t cut it, whether they’re in his mind or out of his mouth. And he’s not sure what words he would use anyway.

“I don’t know,” he says at last, and it’s the truth.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by [The OA](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DvHJtez2IlY), which explores a connection between near-death experiences and alternate dimensions. I got to thinking about how Nathan’s deaths could be considered NDEs. And since Misfits also deals with alternate timelines thanks to Curtis’ power, what if Nathan was able to see into those other universes when he died?
> 
> (Those who’ve seen The OA - imagine the ASBO Five doing the Five Movements.)
> 
> Just in case there’s any confusion, the prison timeline Nathan sees isn’t Las Vegas, it’s what might have happened if Sally discovered the bodies in her car.
> 
> The title of the fic comes from a lyric in First Aid Kit’s [“Stay Gold.”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=veHUZMoKObc)


End file.
